


Old News

by Adeline_Hatter



Series: Lockwood and Co AUs [1]
Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: AU, Aged Up, But Lockwood's still alive because HA, F/M, TCS Doesn't Happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 12:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9896033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adeline_Hatter/pseuds/Adeline_Hatter
Summary: Four years ago Lucy Carlyle left Lockwood and Co with her head held high, now serving a Daily Haunting’s reporter she sees them again, well… One of them shows up on her doorstep.





	1. Part One

The rain is as always, heavy on the London streets against her umbrella with random bursts of droplets running down the bright blue nylon sheets, and Lucy stretches a hand out into the water falling from the sky, a smile playing on her lips delicately as she steps out onto the busy streets in front of Paddington Station. 

 

Losing her talents had felt like the worst thing in the world when it had happened, two years on and her birthday right around the corner, she couldn’t see it as anything short of the brightest blessing, pressing her satchel closer to her body under the small amount of space to keep it dry. 

 

She loved the city when it got like this, as if the Problem didn’t plague them as much as it did, she waved to a few small agents that ran past her, the weight of her rapier missing made her pause, staring after them slightly wistfully, but more over concerned. 

 

Passing the newsagents/coffee shop she saw the front of the paper boosting about a newer agency opening it’s doors to the city for help, “Mortem Inc?” Lucy pushes the amused smile down, before looking up at the sound of her name. 

 

“Miss Carlyle, how are you this morning?” William speaks from his spot behind the counter, he started pulling out shots for her morning coffee, without her even ordering it, “I saw your column in the papers earlier, beautiful sketches as always.” 

 

Now she smiles, “I’m grand Will.” He motions to the jar of sugar next to the machine, and she shakes her head, “Thank you, I liked writing it, an old friend used to say I could write a book if I put my mind to it.” 

 

He nods, the blonde ponytail moving with him, “You got lucky then with that job? I remember not too long ago when you were still coming in here with a rapier on your waist, and bags under your eyes.” With the take out cup landing on the counter she takes out her purse, “Look at you now though, quite the looker.” He throws her a wink, that earns him an eye roll. 

 

“Prettiness is not my profession.” She states plainly, counting out the change to hand him then thinks better of it, shutting that pocket and opening the main one, pulling out a note, “I’ll take a copy of the paper too.” 

 

William takes the money nodding, “How did you get that name for your column though? You never have told me.” He smiles again, she smiles back turning away to head to the door picking up her coffee, and a paper on the way, “The Whispering Skull, a bit morbid if you ask me..” 

 

“I had a friend who liked to go by it!” 

 

It was true after all, even if she hadn’t been able to have a conversation with him in years.

* * *

 

Portland Road is still the same, it never really changes, though the sign in front of number 35 had gotten changed a while ago, the only thing she could make out was ‘Lockwood and Co’ but the words underneath it were smaller, and different she couldn’t quote it anymore nor could she walk closer to see what it had really said. 

 

She paused opposite on the street, aiming her umbrella down just enough so that no one could see her face if they looked out the window, or at her at all for any reason, and her smile vanished when the curtains were pulled roughly open, one familiar face appearing then disappearing quickly. 

 

Would it be worth it? The last time she’d seen Holly was a few months ago, she’d bumped into the secretary on the tube station, pleasantries were exchanged, and they had gotten to be semi-decent friends, though they didn’t talk often…. But she did try to give Lucy updates about everyone. 

 

A year after she’d left Lockwood had lost the agency license for being too reckless on a job, and they hadn’t been able to regain it at any point, so they became a Private Investigations firm instead, still doing what they could to do some good. 

 

Turning on her heel she sipped her coffee, and took a step forwards, the office was expecting her, and Lucy didn’t really keep people waiting these days…. 

 

* * *

  
  


It’s a quick thing when he climbs out of the cab a few houses down, running a hand through his hair, paying the fair he owed, and standing in the rain when he sees her.

 

A blue umbrella held above her head, battering the rain away from her, her skirt matched in a darker shade of the colour, her shirt black, covered by a long brown coat, a satchel bag slung across her shoulders, she looked ever the reporter she now was…

 

Lucy always looked good in blue actually, she has the umbrella pulled low, but in the low heels she was sporting it was just enough that he could see her face, she’s grown into her nose, her jaw still sharp, her lips pursed in a tight frown, her hair cascaded down her shoulders now, soft waves throughout. 

 

She moved then, spinning on her heel and moving towards the other end of the street, coffee in hand as she sipped it….. 

 

Lockwood wanted nothing more than to follow her, but what the heck would he say to her? 

 

Well he’d probably apologise first, ask how she was, then stand awkwardly like a ridiculous fool. Honestly, what did people expect when you saw the love of your young adult life standing on the other side of the street looking prettier than ever. 

 

“I need help, and a towel.” He muttered making himself move until he hopped up onto the steps outside number thirty-five, opening the door hearing the clank of plates in the kitchen, peeking in George had his laptop open, his fingers typing quicker than he’d ever seen them, a plate of pancakes next to him. 

 

Holly appears in his vision a moment later, holding out a fluffy white towel, “Welcome home, long night?” She raises an eyebrow, not so subtly asking him exactly where he’d been, he avoided her gaze instead pulling off his coat and draping it over a chair as it dropped fat droplets down onto the floor, “What was their name?” Holly tries again, moving around the kitchen setting two mugs on the table. 

 

“Amber.” He answers this time, and at his friend’s wide eyes “She needed help looking for her cat, by the time I’d found it it was already too late to come home so I slept on the sofa. Happy?” He ends his explanation and Holly looks away, completely unconvinced that he had actually slept on the floor. 

 

Drying his hair he slumps in a different chair, “....Lucy was outside when I got out of the cab, looking at the house.” Everything in the kitchen freezes, his two friends exchanging a look, “Was she here earlier?” He asked now curious at what the look meant, before twin gazes filled to the brim with concern and ‘We know something’ turned on him. 

 

“No, she wasn’t.” George replies, and it’s his tone that eases Lockwood a bit in the fact that he’s telling the truth, “Probably just walking to the Daily’s office, the quickest way on foot is to walk through here.” It’s an acceptable answer, but he did wish that she had been here to see them, “I mean she’s getting quite popular in the media, due to her column, still can’t believe she became a reporter.” 

 

The laugh is small from the stove, “She said it was the closest to the action she could get without DEPRAC or any of the agency trying to pull her in to be a supervisor.” She stopped, realising what she’d admitted to knowing, despite it having been four years… And Lockwood knew that they saw Lucy now and again to catch up, a tense moment passed as they waited for his response. 

 

“That sounds like good ol’ Luce.” Was what he decided on, standing up a moment later, “I’m gonna go take a shower…. Holly?” At her name she looks up, her hair tied back into a sleek ponytail, her cheek covered with a little bit of flower, “I don’t suppose you have Lucy’s address?” 

 

He watches the words register before Holly turns the stove off, “I may do, I know she’s moved since all the free lacing she did, somewhere in Soho if I remember correctly.” Picking up a pen she scrawls the address across the table cloth, “I also know her phone number…” That’s scrawled down too, “I hope you want these because you plan to apologise Anthony.” 

 

The tone that leaks into her sentence is what makes him look up from reading it, “Of course it is… Four years is long enough right?” Holly smiles, and George looks at him with a raised eyebrow, before shutting the laptop. 

“I know the coffee shop she regulars.” He states plainly, and freezes momentarily when a glare lands on him, “....She told me the name when we saw each other last ok.” 

 

Lockwood is already out the kitchen door when that’s spoken though, pulling himself up the stairs, his lips quirk up quickly, and he doesn’t notice the heads that poke through the door to look at him, just as his grin maniacal, and charming appears as he disappears up the stairs. 

 

“Been a long time since that reached his eyes…” Holly mutters quietly, pulling herself back into the kitchen, George joins her a moment later. 

* * *

  
  


The rain stops by the time she’s stepping into the lobby of the block of flats she calls home, the take away in her hands warm as she takes the stairs instead of the lift, arriving on her floor a moment later, and juggling things as she unlocks the door, placing her things on the hallway table. 

 

Her home is cleaner than the office, the only room that wasn’t probably as clear was in fact her home office, Lucy had learned how to keep her things tidy since her days in that tiny flat she’d lived in a long time ago… She was much happier away from there. 

 

Placing the take away in the kitchen she moves pulling off her coat draping it over the back of the beat up sofa, putting her satchel next to her desk, and the umbrella hung up to dry off, before looking towards one of the many bookshelves, where he sits as ever lifeless, without much movement now either. 

 

He’s pressed up in between her copies of Skulduggery Pleasant, because she knew he’s hating it up there, “I’m home.” She tells him softly, like she does every day, not even bothering to try and hear him these days, spinning through the room again pulling out the remote and switching the television on to E4 in time to hear the theme song of a show playing into the room. 

 

She flips the light switch before walking back into the kitchen and pulling out a plate, opening the container and serving up some of the curry just as the doorbell goes off, placing down the container she moves quietly. 

 

“Coming!” Lucy calls when it goes off again, opening the door a moment later expecting it to be her landlord or one of her neighbours… Anyone but- 

 

“Hi Lucy.” 

 

-Anthony Lockwood. 


	2. Part Two

He sees it in her eyes how surprised she is, dark eyes blowing wide at him slowly, taking in everything about him, until her gaze lands heavy on his face flickering down, the surprise disappears then with a neutral expression replacing it. 

 

“Lockwood.” Her tone is clipped, almost cold, her eyes move down again, “That’s the tie I got you.” He reaches up to straighten it she follows the movement, seemingly debating something before her door opens wider. 

 

The hallway is painted a pastel blue, he takes off his coat and hangs it up next to hers without direction, as she steps back into the doorway that leads to the kitchen, “So… Luce?” Her entire frame pauses. 

 

“Yes?” 

 

“I’m sorry.” 

 

Her hair whips around her face now, landing, catching his attention for a moment, “What?” 

 

“All those years ago when you left…. When we saw each other after that I-” 

 

“Yeah I kinda got that, but you came all this way just to apologise?” Her eyes stare at him, arms crossed now, much shorter than him too, but still tall enough to look down her nose at him with any quick succession. 

 

Lockwood coughs, “Well, I admit that wasn’t the only reason?” She raises her eyebrow delicately, it’s always been a fluid movement, and he relaxes a little bit with the familiarity of that simple quirk. 

 

“So you have ulterior motives Lockwood?” Hearing his name come from her lips for the first time in years sends a shiver right up his spine, all he does is grin in the reply, “I see, can I know what those motives are?” She spins arms flying out of the cross and landing at her side, “Tea? You still take it like you used to?” 

 

He’s momentarily captivated watching her hair land as it does, “Not right now…. And yes I do.” The image of an ecto-plasm avoiding bob showing in his memory the last time he saw her, “So I understand you’ve seen George and Holly more recently?” 

 

“Hmm? Oh Holly and I meet up to have a catch up and coffee once in awhile, it’s really easy to be friends with her when we don’t have the pressure of working together in the way.” He pokes his head out of the other doorway leading into the living room, a beat up sofa is right in front of it, a wall of bookshelves to the left, and more doors to the right, “George on the other hand is more hard to bump into.” 

 

The sound of mugs landing on the counter fills the silence that follows as he moves slowly around the room, curious, then he sees it… Him? The Skull lies dormant in the silver glass jar wedged between several books. 

 

“I can’t talk to him anymore.” He jumps, Lucy’s leaning against the doorway, two mugs in her hands, “I should probably take him somewhere else but I tried, and I couldn’t really do it in the end.” 

 

He nods slowly, “He was the only thing that wasn’t yours in the first place, you took with you when you left, I didn’t exactly miss  him I admit.” She smiles, it’s a soft thing but he can’t help but notice the twinge of sadness, “I wonder if he’s still watching us.” 

 

“Probably, knowing him.” There’s a small piece of laughter that leaves her lips, it’s bittersweet in the way that barely covers grief, “He was my friend for a long time.” Her eyebrows furrow, shaking her head she holds out one of the mugs, and he takes it, sipping at the tea slowly. 

 

Silence, awkward, and just so wrong, stretches between them, “.....Do you want to get a drink?” The words leave his mouth in a slow sentence, that he draws out just a little bit, and Lucy looks at him, puzzled and absolutely flabbergasted. 

 

“What?” She mumbles, looking as if she’s still in shock, “We’re having tea right now-” 

 

“No no, I meant a drink… In a pub… With me..” He coughs, “To catch up, but also maybe as a-” 

 

“Are you asking me out?” 

 

He debates it. 

 

“Yes.” With that her face goes bright red, and to him it’s a charming sight… 

 

Lucy blinks twice at him, “Okay.” 

 

“Okay.” He replies. 

* * *

  
  


The pub is a local one she frequents, regulars pause to wave at her before she tucks herself into the corner booth, she’s early she knows she is, but then again that’s kind of the point. 

 

She opens her laptop, aiming to get some work done while she waits, admittedly Lucy was still at a loss at why she had agreed to this in the first place. A crazy notion, that sixteen year old her had pushed at probably, gods she could remember being in complete denial over that stupid crush. 

 

Knocking herself out of her memories, thoughts, and overall feelings on the ‘Anthony Lockwood’ matter was never easy, but still she put her fingers to work on the keyboard slowly, the tapping almost calming to her mind as it always was, right up until a cup of tea was set in front of her, with a chair spinning around along with it.

 

“So what brings you here this evening?” The smile is easy, flirtatious, and normal, “I need your help Lu.” 

 

Lucy looked up into the face of Jacque Wilson, “Jac.” She states plainly, and he waves a hand at her, “Still sure you shouldn’t be flirting with anyone but your boyfriend.” His hand keeps waving. 

 

His blond hair flops into his vision, and he pushes it out the way, “Seeing as it’s only seven in the evening, and I know your policies I just got you some earl grey for now, until your date shows up.” 

 

Her mouth opens, “Lucy, sweetie pie, honey bunch.” She glares, “You’re wearing your favourite blouse.” She glares harder, and Jacque laughs brightly, “I should be getting back to the bar, but when your date shows up I’m bringing a pint for you.” 

 

“Thanks.” She rolls her eyes, it’s done with a little affection thought, and Jacque smiles wider, than that smile dips down into a bright smirk that alights with a deep seated mischievous evil, “What?” Lucy asks, her distrust growing every second that smirk is present. 

 

Jacque sits up straighter, reaching out and running a hand through her hair, before moving away, “You had something in your hair!” Is all he says, before he slips back behind the bar, and looks quickly at the door. 

 

He stands there, a frown deep set on his face, and her glare grows daggers when it turns back to the bar, she really hates him on his best days, “Lockwood!” She calls out, waving picking up the tea and sipping it gently as his head whips around to face her. 

 

The instant smile does something funny to her insides, warmth begins in her chest, and suddenly fills her whole being when he firmly directs his smile at her a moment later, leaving her just a little breathless. 

 

_ Stop that. You sound like a lovestruck teenager.  _ She was nearly twenty-one for heaven’s sake, she couldn’t go about looking at him like that, nor could she wonder what exactly lay beneath that suit these days- “Stop.” Lucy mutters firmly. 

 

“Hi Luce.” The nickname, warm, affectionate rolls off his tongue, it’s so familiar that it feels like it was just yesterday that she was standing in a training room, his hands encasing her waist to make her pivot her rapier at the exact right spot, “You got here early then?” 

 

Lucy sets the cup down again, “It is the local pub. To where I am anyway.” She smiles herself, “That and I know the bartender, so no funny business please.” 

“Or what he’ll kick my ass? Doesn’t look like he could.” 

 

“Lockwood, we both know I would be the one doing the ass-kicking.” 

 

She’s frowning, and so for that matter is he. The silence slightly tense, but when she wills it her lips jump into a smile that shows how much she’s joking, and his smile returns tenfold… For the first time in four years her cheeks filled with heat because of him. 

 

“So any chance we can switch the tea out for a pint?” He asks a little hesitant, and she raises her hand as she downs what’s left of the tea, two pints are delivered a moment later, “How often are you here?” His eyebrows raise, his hair is in his eyes again, and she really wants to reach forward and brush it out the way.

 

Lucy shrugs, “I’m here every monday night, there’s a lull that I can get work done it, and my study really needs cleaning…. Do you think I could pay Holly to do it?” It’s a joke, she watches as Lockwood laughs heartedly before taking a sip of the drink in front of him, and wincing slightly, “You don’t drink often do you?” 

 

“I drink enough to be consider a normal british man.” He states, and she picks up her own pint, going to shut her laptop, “What are you working on?” Lucy pauses, twisting the screen around to face him without much in the way of hesitation, “Oh the next column.” 

 

“Yep, Lorie wants it by tomorrow afternoon.” He frowns, and she waves her hand at him, “Don’t worry this is the last paragraph, then I just have to edit, and email it.” She looks up at him again, and he seems genuinely interested… 

 

She sips her drink, “Do you like it? Being a reporter I mean.” Lucy licks her lips, and wishes she didn’t catch his eyes follow the movement delicately. 

 

“I do.” Her answer is honest, quiet, and ringing, “It’s a nice change of pace…. But, it’s weird not being at the forefront of it all these days you know?” He nods, sipping his drink, just letting her talk, “I kind of miss it, but not at the same time. I miss having a rapier, I don’t miss the almost constant peril we were in, hell I miss talking to the Skull sometimes.” 

 

He can’t help it, “Let me guess you’d talk about someone else, and he’d come up with ways to kill them?” 

 

“Exactly!” 

 

They laugh in unison, and she can remember sitting in the kitchen of Portland Road teasing George, laughing at everyone’s jokes, and just being…. Part of something, and Lucy realises she misses it. 

 

Really misses it.

 

They finishes their drinks, and start on to the next, loosening up a lot more, talking laughing…. 

* * *

 

An hour later she’s standing in front of her door, two drinks in her, a bag of chips in her hands, and he’s stealing chips from her every few seconds, but she laughs, “Don’t steal my food.” She tells him with less anger, and more amusement. 

 

“But their nice chips.” Lockwood replies a little giddy, also a little tipsy, and she sighs. Handing him the paper bag, unlocking her door, letting him trail in a bit. 

 

“I’ll make some tea, and then get you a little more sober, I can’t imagine Holly’s reaction if you came back drunk-” She turns to face him after setting the chips on the counter, and he’s there, so very close, so so very close, and…. “Lockwood?” 

 

He jumps a bit, taking a step back, “Sorry, I’m- Sorry. Tea um tea sounds good.” Silence fills the space between them, “Lucy?” He whispers quietly. 

 

“Hmm?” She starts making tea, heat creeping up her neck, and she berates herself internally, trying not to wonder what would happen if they kissed right now. 

 

“I really want to kiss you.” She drops the teaspoon, and it clatters to the floor loudly. 

 

So she starts to turn around instead, looking him in the eyes, hands reaching up all by themselves really, taking him by the collar. 

 

“Ok.” She whispers, and closes the gap. 

 

The paper hits the coffee table when he pushes the door open, and he looks up to find George with his eyes narrowed sitting in his chair, his hands press together, and a blonde eyebrow raises, “How’s Lucy?” 

 

“She’s grand, we’re having dinner tomorrow.” His eyes focus harder, and Lockwood coughs “I’m just going to go change, and see what cases are on the agenda… Did you make anything nice for breakfast? I’ll have leftovers for lunch.” 

 

George watches him closely, before picking up the phone next to him, dialing, “Hi, Holly. I know it’s you day off but-” 

 

“I want my ten pounds George Cubbins by the time I come in later.” 

 

“Ok.” 


End file.
